


The Kids Run the Restaurant

by Cerusee



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Bruce got stabbed in the thigh and Alfred has the flu, Flu, Gen, Injury, audrey knows why, saltines, that's it that's the fic, the title is from Bob's Burgers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2019-01-04 04:12:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12161298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerusee/pseuds/Cerusee
Summary: Bruce is high on Poison Ivy's pollen and Alfred has the flu.  Good thing Jason's around to keep an eye on things.





	The Kids Run the Restaurant

**Author's Note:**

  * For [audreycritter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/audreycritter/gifts).



> Happy birthday, Audrey! This was supposed to be longer, and then it, uh...wasn't.

Bruce stumbled into the kitchen, with little memory of how he got there.

Instead of the Alfred he was expecting, he found...Jason. 

Jason, wearing an apron, standing at the counter and chopping up something that sounded like it _could_ be a vegetable.

“Where’s Alfred?” Bruce asked. His voice was creaky, even to his own ears.

Jason looked back over his shoulder at Bruce and dropped his knife onto the counter with a loud clatter. “I took the fucking crutches out of the room so you _wouldn’t_ do that.” He pulled the nearest chair out. “Sit down, you idiot.”

Bruce sat down. He had to; his thigh was screaming bloody murder. He stared at it, peeking out from his boxers. Had that red-stained bandage been there before, when he’d woken up?

Jason sat on his haunches next to Bruce. “Bruce,” he said, his voice gentle. “You had a bad encounter with Poison Ivy last night. She whammied you hard and then she speared you through the thigh with a vine. Based on the tox screens, I’m guessing you’re probably still feeling a little bit crazy just now.”

“Oh,” Bruce said. Everything was swirling and pulsing and angry red at the moment. But that wasn’t unusual. He glanced up at a sky filled with supernovas that burned his retinas. He could have sworn there used to be a ceiling there. “Will I live?”

“Probably, if you retire. It’d help a lot right now if you could fucking stay still, okay?”

“Okay,” Bruce said, staring at the red light.

He listened to the rhythmic _thunk thunk_ as Jason resumed chopping vegetables, and quietly passed out.

***

He woke again to the smell of chicken soup, and the sensation of someone prodding at his injured thigh. 

It hurt like hell.

He opened his eyes, and he was in his own bed, looking up at the ceiling, which was thankfully now a ceiling and not a field of fiery dying stars. He looked down in time to see Jason, hunched over his thigh, casually tossing a wad of bloody cotton over his shoulder.

Bruce grunted disapprovingly.

“I’ll fucking pick it up. Relax.” Jason told him. “We’re not in a hospital.”

“Where’s—“

“ _Alfred_ is resting in bed, because he’s not as stupid as you are. He has a nasty case of the flu. He was coming down with it before I even dragged your sorry ass home last night.”

“Oh,” Bruce said. “Does he know about this?” He gestured loosely down at his bloody thigh, and _wow_ , that looked pretty bad.

“Nope,” Jason said, and drenched Bruce’s thigh with disinfectant. Bruce clenched his teeth at the burn. “And he doesn’t need to right now. Because if he knew you were hurt, he’d probably drag himself out of bed to try to take care of you. Your system doesn’t need any extra strain right now, and I’m perfectly capable of wound care and shoving food down your throat. Capiche?”

“Understood,” Bruce said, more harshly than he meant to, but it _hurt_.

Jason carefully rewrapped the wound, and grimaced when Bruce flinched. “Sorry to be doing this without painkillers,” he said, in a overly casual voice. “Didn’t want to give you anything when you still had Ivy’s shit in your system. I’ll take another blood sample and see if it’s cleared up, and if it has, I’ll give you something for the pain.”

“It’s fine,” Bruce grunted. “I don’t need anything.”

“I’ll never know how a guy as sharp as Alfred raised an idiot like you,” Jason said, rolling his eyes. “How many times we gotta go over this? You heal faster if you aren’t hurting as much.”

Bruce snorted loudly at the hypocrisy; Jason hating taking painkillers more than all his siblings combined.

Jason clearly understood Bruce’s unspoken thoughts, because he scowled at him. “You’re the king of _do as I say, not as I do_ , so don’t get started with me, old man.”

“A father’s prerogative,” Bruce said.

Jason rolled his eyes again. “Can you do me a favor? Stay in bed for now. I’ve had to haul you around in a fireman’s carry twice in twenty-four fucking hours, and you are the approximate weight of the state of New Jersey, plus you almost kneed me in the face the first time.”

Bruce had no memory of that—his most recent memories included only hearing reports of a Poison Ivy sighting on the police scanner (something about her trying to melt the dockyard), and then standing bewildered in the doorway of his own kitchen, watching his semi-estranged son dice carrots for no apparent reason—but nevertheless, he said, “I’m sorry, Jason.”

“You can make it up to me by staying put,” Jason said. “And eating this.”

The chicken soup smell was revealed when Jason plonked a small bed tray over Bruce, and transferred an insulated tureen onto it, as well as a soup spoon, and napkins, and...dear God, were those individually wrapped packets of _saltines_? Couldn't be. Alfred would never allow them in his kitchen.

“Where the hell did you get those?” Bruce asked, staring at them.

“I always have saltines, Bruce,” Jason said, smugly. “Eat up. I’ll be back in a bit. I gotta go see if Alfred is done with his food.”

“Wait,” Bruce said. “Did you give Alfred saltines, too?”

Jason grinned at him. “Yup,” he said, popping the _p_. “He’s got the flu, he won’t be able to come at me for _days_.” He winked.

Bruce’s thigh still throbbed with pain, but as soon as Jason closed the bedroom door behind him, Bruce let himself laugh.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] The Kids Run the Restaurant](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13213326) by [GoLBPodfics (digiella)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/digiella/pseuds/GoLBPodfics)




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